


The best instinct I know

by phalangine



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, is it the future i will be insisting on? yes, is this a likely future? no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: A snapshot into the lives of John and Chas after they manage the impossible: getting old.





	The best instinct I know

Chas is sleeping.

He’s lying on his back, head tilted toward John’s side of the bed, features slack as he breathes softly. For the first time in days, he hasn’t already been awake for hours when John wakes up.

John clenches his fists to keep from touching him. Chas needs all the sleep he can get. The insomnia that used to plague John has shifted onto Chas, and John has eavesdropped on enough conversations with the doctor to know that’s the sort of thing that will cut into the time they have together. So John has to let Chas get his rest, even if the sight of him silent and still makes John’s heart beat oddly in his chest, like it’s been pushed out of place, stuck beating in a place where it doesn’t fit.

He can follow the steady rise and fall of Chas’ chest, though, and it’s easy to make himself breathe in time with it.

Chas thinks he’s the one who’s been following John, but the truth is, John’s been trying to carve himself a place beside Chas’ ribs from the day they met.

Typical of Chas to make John go through all that effort, then reveal, aged sixty, that he’d already made a spot for John.

Zed had merely rolled her eyes when she walked in on them a month later, John seated comfortably on Chas’ lap as they made their way through the years of kisses they’d missed.

In the years since then, John hasn’t often been far from Chas. It’s not their job to fight demons anymore- which is good, because Chas still ages like other men, and two ancient codgers with sciatica and multiple pill boxes aren’t likely to be what the world needs.

Retirement was an unexpected trial. John never thought he’d have to plan for the day when the bath became a greater danger to him than the forces of hell, and Chas was little better. (Renee helped a bit, but John suspects Chas’ adjustment to a life of leisure had more to do with Geraldine’s gleeful assessment of potential retirement homes than his ex-wife’s very practical guide to over fifty-five communities. John had thought the one in Florida with all the negative reviews citing an alligator named Alf was interesting, but Chas was put off by him.)

But they found this place eventually, a quiet little “village” out in one of the states with too much wind and not enough to do. John likes the isolation; there’s security in having a wall of trees between the world and them. And Chas likes having a porch where he can wrap himself in a blanket and look out at the trees. John’s not sure he likes Chas doing that- there’s some sort of unsettling symbolism about the woods, and Chas is prone to making spur of the moment decisions.

So John lets him have an hour or two out there on his own, then wraps himself up in a blanket and joins Chas, dragging his chair over so he can hold Chas’ hand.

John has never been fond of the cold, but at least out here it isn’t the sort he grew up with, where the cold would bring rain and darkness, muffling everything beyond the house until it felt like there was no one else, just John and hungry ghosts.

Chas always smiles at him when John comes over, his fingers curling around John’s, still the only person interested in stepping through the cold to warm John.

It’s enough to make a man want to put down roots, at least until Chas decides to regale John with tales of his adventures in the village with the friends he’s made. Most of them are fine. A few are even good company.

And then there’s Ashley, their neighbor two cabins down who has made no secret of having designs on Chas.

“Stop thinking about Alice,” Chas grumbles.

John glares at him. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I can’t when you’re plotting homicide two inches away.”

“I’m not plotting homicide,” John grouses. “Even if Ashley is.”

Chas shakes his head, but there’s a quirk to his lips that says he thinks this is funny.

John briefly considers tugging on Chas’ beard. It’s grown out enough for John to do that, Chas’ face made easier to catch and pull closer by it. Despite John’s initial skepticism, Chas was right about it getting softer. It’s hardly cashmere, but John doesn’t mind petting Chas’ cheek when Chas bends for a kiss.

Best of all, Ashley doesn’t like it.

In the end, he decides against pulling Chas’ beard. He turns over onto his back instead, facing the plain white ceiling of their bedroom rather than Chas.

Chas chuckles, and a moment later, the bed shifts as John’s husband scoots closer. It’s still disconcerting how well Chas fits against him, but John is willing to adjust. The weight of Chas’ head on his shoulder is almost more familiar than feeling nothing, and it’s the absence of Chas’ hand on John’s belly during one of their nights apart that keeps him awake.

It occurs to John- as it always does when he’s starting to get comfortable in the happiness Chas brings with him- that he doesn’t know how many lives Chas has left or what will happen if time comes for Chas before he goes through them all.

John never thought he’d have to worry about being around for that. Either he’d die, or Chas would leave long before this became an issue.

Yet here they are, alive and together. Their natural lives will be ending sooner than not, and John doesn’t fancy the idea of moving onto whatever comes next for him without knowing Chas will be all right.

He doesn’t much care for the idea of going on without Chas either, but odds are, John’s afterlife won’t be a kind one, let alone one that will let him be loved by Chas.

He’s not sure how he managed it on earth if he’s honest.

“Alice and I are playing bocce ball this afternoon,” Chas tells him.

Mood souring, John sighs. “Of course you are.”

“That’s the plan, anyway. Which I’ll be sad to hear we can’t follow through with because the bocce ball stuff is missing.”

“Missing?” John echoes, twisting his neck to look at Chas.

Chas grins at up him. “Completely misplaced. No idea where it could be. Which is probably for the best- I’m just not up to company today.”

That’s bollocks- Chas will get bored and go out and charm everyone in an hour or two.

But Chas is happy, too. John has to make himself remember that- Chas doesn’t go out and dick around with the others because he’s unhappy with John. He just likes people more than John does, always has.

Whatever compels people to be drawn to John is strong but fleeting. The first days, maybe weeks or months, are full of worship. Then they see his faults and move along.

Not so with Chas. He’s not so spectacular, but he’s more reliable than John, more likely to twist himself around to help just because he’s there.

He could have made a life with anyone- he should have made a life with Renee- but he always comes back to John. Usually he trots home on his own, but every so often he finds some flowers or a sweet John likes, which he presents with a look on his face that says he knows he’s done well.

Possibly that’s an indictment against John’s past partners, but Chas is a simple bloke. He knows if he brings John a gift, he’ll make John happy.

And making John happy means he gets a kiss.

He always looks so bloody pleased with himself after. One of these days, John’s going to figure out how to stop rewarding him, and then Chas will have to work for his kisses. They’ve only been together for a few years. John’s bound to think of a way not to give into Chas’ soft eyes and friendly hands eventually.

John can live with other people liking Chas more than they like him because Chas, fool that he is, likes John more than he likes any of them.

Bending the elbow attached to the shoulder Chas has repurposed as a pillow, John brings his hand up to Chas’ head and strokes his fingers through Chas’ hair.

“And people call me a scheming bastard.”

Chas hums a little and snuggles closer.

They don’t have much time left, but it’s enough for John to know the shape of Chas’ smile against his shoulder. And it’s enough to know John will wind up sitting next to Chas later as he argues with one of their neighbors over engines or some other incomprehensible thing, and he won’t mind as much as he might have because Chas will have an arm around him, letting him nod off on Chas’ shoulder.

It’s more than John expected, far more than he deserves.

It’s not nearly enough, but when it comes to Chas, there’s no such thing. John can only take and take and take while he can.

Luckily for him, Chas has always been the giving sort, especially to John. So John keeps petting Chas’ hair and soaking up the warmth of Chas’ body where he’s pressed against John. And Chas might fall back asleep if they’re lucky, or he’ll get up and shower if they’re not.

It’s simple and alien because of it, but John is happy, and that almost doesn’t scare him.


End file.
